


Love's a Little Closer to a Wildflower

by Kelleesi



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arya Stark-centric, Eventual Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, F/M, Family Drama, Friends to Lovers, Gilmore Girls Inspired, I mean it, Minor Arya Stark/Jaqen Hgar, Minor Gendry Waters/Jeyne Heddle, Mutual Pining, POV Arya Stark, Past Arya Stark/Aegon Targaryen, Single Mom!Arya, Slow Burn, Teen Pregnancy, this is not the most Cat friendly story out there just a warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26637634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kelleesi/pseuds/Kelleesi
Summary: “I’m listening. And I know you’re disappointed. About this, about everything. And I’m sorry.” (She knew her mother wouldn’t believe it. She never did. But Aryawassorry. This wasn’t the way she’d ever pictured her life going. It’s not like sheplannedon being a reckless disappointment. No one did.) She took a breath, and her stomach twisted with anxiety before the rest rushed out.“But we’re not coming home.”
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Comments: 125
Kudos: 165





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wyneb_Ceffyl_Arya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wyneb_Ceffyl_Arya/gifts).



Arya wondered, as she drove along the winding highway, just what in the actual fuck she thought she was doing. 

It had felt like the right thing in the moment. She’d been in her room, like she _always_ was nowadays, and the walls felt like they were about to positively collapse on her. She hadn’t been sure what she could do to feel better - she considered screaming at the top of her lungs (couldn’t do that, it would disturb the baby), or maybe tearing her hair out slowly and painfully one fistful at a time, and then -

And then she thought of leaving. 

It’s not like she hadn’t thought of it before. It had crossed her mind so many times over the years that it barely even registered anymore… but something was different this time. 

Because as soon as it crossed her mind, it wouldn’t leave her alone. It was all she could think about, until she was pacing restlessly and relentlessly across her bedroom, chewing her lower lip nearly to shreds.

But then -

She’d made up her mind, and just as quickly she was throwing her own clothes and Lya’s things into all the bags she could find, from under her bed to the back of her closet. Her blood was singing as she tossed the bags out the window, and she slipped out with Lya in her arms just a moment later. Night had fallen, and while there was still a chance, technically, that someone might see her… she knew they wouldn’t. She felt invincible, unstoppable, almost delirious with the adrenaline that coursed through her knowing that freedom was at her fingertips. She peeled out of the driveway as quietly as she could, and once she hit the highway she felt like she could _breathe_. Something as simple and vital as that probably shouldn’t be as monumental as it was. 

But it had been months. Months of her mother hovering over her, watching her every move, discouraging her from being seen in public at every opportunity (she was certain that Cat felt if nobody saw her, everyone could forget what had happened. What a _scandal_ she had caused.)

Nothing else had mattered in those first few frenzied moments. All that mattered was that she had her daughter, and she wasn’t suffocating, not anymore. 

She didn’t know where she was going. She hit the highway headed North (which - okay, maybe she didn’t know where she was going, exactly, but she knew, somehow, that this was the right way. Jon was in the North. And it’s not like she could show up on his doorstep, or anything, and she knew that just as well. But he was the only one who understood her, truly, and if going North had been right for him then who said it wouldn’t be right for her, too?)

So she’d driven, and she’d driven, and she’d driven, and all her brazen confidence had slowly slipped away, as surely as the miles from her home did. And now her clock was reading almost six AM, and she’d just turned off at the exit for some place called Lost Lake, and as she pulled into the parking lot for Davos’ Diner she was pretty sure she’d lost her mind. 

She didn’t have any intentions of staying long. (In all fairness, she didn’t have any particular intentions of anything at all. That was part of the problem.) But she’d been driving for hours, and the sky was lightening around her, and the further she drove the louder the panicked thoughts in her head became. The ones that said she’d lost all reason, that she was making a huge mistake, that she _couldn’t do this_. And she just needed to stop, to take a minute, settle her thoughts before she lost her nerve completely and turned the car back around. 

It would be a quick stop, she was sure, and then she’d be back on the road, headed for -

Headed for who the fuck knows where. 

She thanked the Old Gods that Lya had slept so soundly during the drive. She tried to take this as some kind of sign that she was doing the right thing (because surely, if she’d screamed her head off the whole way, Arya wouldn’t have made it far.)

She entered the diner, a little bell over the door tinkling to signal her entrance. There were no other customers, just a man behind the counter, his back to her as he swore at something as if it were the bane of his existence.

She took a seat at the table closest to the counter, with Lya beside her. She waited for him to turn, or to acknowledge her in some way.

He did neither.

She cleared her throat noisily, and he finally turned to face her. She bit back her surprise - he was younger than she’d thought. Closer to her age than she’d expected from the size of him. He glared at her, and she wondered if she’d entered some alternate dimension. She knew she was tired, but - she was a customer in his stupid empty diner. Shouldn’t he be happier about this?

“Did you need something?” His tone was brusque as he interrupted her musings. She merely blinked in astonishment. Clearly, she was not in Winterfell anymore. People had better manners where she was from, that was for certain.

She ordered a coffee. She should probably eat, but -

Well, she wasn’t sure the boy would be able to handle something like her asking for a whole meal. (Plus, her stomach was a knotted mess, but she was trying not to focus on that.) He slammed it down in front of her, before returning to whatever battle he’d been fighting when she’d come in. She closed her eyes and sighed, dropping her head into her hands as she inhaled the heavenly scent of the coffee. 

Surely this would help. It would calm her nerves and fortify her and remind her that she could do anything she set her mind to -

She was wrong, though. 

She’d been wrong in thinking that stopping would help. It did allow her to think a little bit better, but -

She hadn’t realized that thinking would only make her feel worse. The longer she sat there, the more panicked she felt. Her heart was going too quickly, and each breath felt unsteady. She’d been tapping her finger incessantly against the table top, until she’d finally realized she was doing it and forced herself to stop. 

She had to do something. She hadn’t thought any of this through, she’d just _left_ , because it felt right, at the time, and now -

She’d made a mistake. Hadn’t she? Because what the _fuck_ was she thinking? She didn’t know how to do anything on her own. She didn’t have a job, she didn’t have much money, she didn’t know where she was going, and she had a _baby_ -

“Can I use your phone?” Her finger had started tapping again, and the words burst out of her breathlessly. The young man behind the counter frowned at her, his dark brows knitting above blue eyes that brimmed with suspicion. His scowl deepened, and she knew before he opened his mouth that he would refuse her. 

“ _Please?_ ” The desperation that she’d been fighting back all night bubbled to the surface, causing her voice to crack over the word. She almost winced at the sound. She didn’t want to seem desperate to this stranger. She didn’t want to seem desperate to _anyone_.

It did the trick, though, as he let out a sigh before muttering what sounded like ‘fine’ and gesturing for her to come around. She breathed out a sigh of relief, and a stream of emphatic ‘thank you’s that made his ears redden and his shoulders tense. 

Her hands shook slightly as she took the receiver and punched in the familiar number. She didn’t know what she expected, but her heart was in her throat as she listened to it ring. Whatever happened, surely it would give her some clarity. If she should go forward or if she should go back. (If she even _could_ go back.) They’d be awake by now, she was pretty sure -

“Arya?”

Her mother’s voice on the other line cut right through her, the anxiety in it clear as day. 

“Hi, mom.” She tried to keep her voice steady, and quell the guilt that crashed over her. She felt a sting behind her eyes, and breathed in slowly through her nose. _Fuck_ , she didn’t know what she’d been thinking. This whole thing had been insane. She belonged at home, with her parents, and she’d undoubtedly worried them half to death _again_ -

She blurted everything out in a rush, that she was fine, that they were both fine, that she’d just needed to get away for a minute, needed to clear her head. (And now she had, and she’d figured everything out, and she was going to just forget it all -)

The transformation was immediate, though. Within seconds of learning that Arya and Lya were both perfectly safe, the fear in Cat’s voice was replaced with a hissing rage. Arya winced through the verbal lashing, and wondered how many ways her mother could express her disappointment, her disbelief, her shock at the lengths Arya would go to to ensure she gave her a heart attack. 

Arya tried to cut in to no avail. As her mother’s pitch continued to increase, Arya flinched and held the phone further away from her ear, as if that would make any of this any better. (It didn’t, obviously. _Why_ hadn’t she seen this reaction coming? Had she never met her mother before?)

She was distracted from the diatribe by the acute sense that she was being watched. Her eyes snapped up to find the boy observing her, his gaze inscrutable, his frown still insistently present. As soon as their eyes met, though, he hurriedly turned away, busying himself with the register despite the fact that there were clearly no other customers and he was _clearly_ eavesdropping. Well, let him listen. He could frown at her all he wanted -

“Are you even _listening_ to me?!” Her mother’s voice pierced her reverie, and she was snapped back into her unpleasant reality. And she knew she was absolutely crazy, that _this_ was going to top the list of the most irresponsible thing she’d ever done (a list that was already quite long, as her mother never let her forget), but something inside her had cracked.

“I’m listening. And I know you’re disappointed. About this, about everything. And I’m sorry.” (She knew her mother wouldn’t believe it. She never did. But Arya _was_ sorry. This wasn’t the way she’d ever pictured her life going. It’s not like she _planned_ on being a reckless disappointment. No one did.) She took a breath, and her stomach twisted with anxiety before the rest rushed out. 

“But we’re not coming home.” She was met with shocked silence on the other end of the line, and before she could think too much about it, before she could change her mind, she slammed the receiver down. Her breath rushed out of her, and she took a moment to bask in the relief she felt. (She had to, because she knew how short-lived it would be. She knew how soon the almost paralyzing self-doubt would creep back in, and she’d spiral all over again, thinking about how utterly fucked up she had just made everything, and how completely unprepared she was to do any of this on her own.) She held her head high and stalked back to her table as best she could despite the shakiness in her legs. She looked down at Lya, her sweet face calm and care-free, and she couldn’t feel anything but love. They’d be fine. They had each other, and that was all that -

The phone rang, shattering the momentary peace she’d been attempting to bask in. Surely that wasn’t…

The young man seemed to have the same thought, as he shot her a glare that was somehow both concerned and irritated. It rang again.

They both stared at it as if it were a bomb about to go off (which it was, in a way, if her suspicions were correct, and the person on the other line happened to be her mother, ready to pick up right where she’d left off.)

It rang again, and she couldn’t take it anymore, she’d answer the stupid diner’s phone if he wouldn’t, whether it was her mother or not -

Just as she’d made the decision to move, though, he grabbed for the phone.

“Yeah?” His voice was gruff and entirely unwelcoming. She hoped it wasn’t a customer. But she also really hoped it _was_ , because that would mean it wasn’t -

“Who is this?” Even from across the counter she could hear her mother’s voice, clipped and cold.

“You called _me_.” Arya fought down the urge to snort. When his rudeness was directed towards her mother instead of her, it suddenly seemed a whole lot more appealing. 

“I demand to speak to my daughter.” His eyes met Arya’s once more, and she was certain the panic was back in full force, written across her face as plain as day. 

“I think you have the wrong number.” He hung up before her mother could respond, and Arya wasn’t sure what to do with the rush of gratitude she felt towards him. She definitely couldn’t thank him again - last time she’d done that it had only seemed to make him more uncomfortable. She tried to offer him a shaky smile, but it died almost instantly when she took in the way he was eyeing Lya, his gaze stony as he crossed his arms over his chest and set his jaw. 

“What’s going on here?” He demanded.

And, really, it was a fair question. She wasn’t about to deny that. But she just didn’t exactly have the time or energy to get into it right now, she didn’t know where she was even supposed to start and Gods know that telling _that_ story would likely take an entire week and she had other pressing matters that she really needed to get to, like -

“Are you hiring?” She blurted it out before she could think about it too much. She’d been doing that an awful lot lately, it would seem. Wasn’t she just passing through? 

“Did you steal that baby?” 

Arya tried not to splutter in surprise. Of all the things she’d been expecting him to say, that had not been one of them. (She was hoping she’d changed the subject, also.) But - was that the kind of thing that happened in this town? She wondered if she should reconsider any and all notions she’d had of staying. She also wondered if he was just fucking with her. Both options seemed equally plausible.

“What? Of course not. Did you hear what I said?”

The young man just blinked at her, and the way he jutted his chin out left no doubt that he had already made up his mind. Frustration bubbled up inside her, and again, she _knew_ he was going to refuse before he even said -

“We’re not.”

The flash of satisfaction that ran through her at being right was snuffed out almost immediately, and she nearly spluttered again. Whoever this guy was, and regardless of the fact that he’d helped her out with that whole phone thing, she determined that his customer service skills were distinctly lacking. Surely he could have informed her of this with a little more tact. She glared at him, and he glared right back, and she was about to let him know just what she thought of his service, or maybe convince him for good that she wasn’t a baby thief (she wasn’t sure which) when an older gentleman ambled out from the back. He gave her a broad smile, before clapping the boy on the shoulder.

“Gendry, look, a customer!” The boy frowned at him and muttered something under his breath, shrugging the man’s hand off. The gentleman sighed good-naturedly, before leaning towards Arya. 

“Sorry about him. He’s a good lad, I swear. Terrible server, though.”

The supposed ‘good lad’ merely snorted.

Well, Arya certainly wasn’t going to disagree with the older man’s assessment. He _was_ an awful server, and she might not have any experience but she was certain she could do a much better job. Sure, he’d said they weren’t hiring, but what did he know? She sincerely doubted he was in charge here.

She straightened in her chair, attempted to smooth her hair, pointedly ignoring the fact that she’d been up all night and undoubtedly looked an absolute wreck. She tried to remember everything her mother had attempted to teach her about proper posture, and the way to carry herself to exude just the right amount of confidence and class. (She’d never quite mastered it.)

“I could -” She broke off and cursed herself internally. She couldn’t stumble right now, this was important, this was her _chance_ -

She didn’t care what that guy had said. If she was going to do this, for real, she’d need some money, she’d need a job, and maybe fate had intervened and she’d stopped at this particular diner for a _reason_ , so she could get their life started, right here -

“I could be a server. A good one, really. If you need -”

The older man’s smile fell, and her heart fell with it. 

“I’m sorry, lass.” She tried to keep her disappointment off of her face, and ignore that her stomach felt full of lead, and that her chest was tightening uncomfortably.

“Gendry’s a bit blunt, but he had the right of it. I can’t take anyone else on right now.” She barely heard him over the alarms that had begun in her head. The poisonous thoughts that she _knew_ would be back had broken free, entirely too soon, and were instantly running rampant through her mind.

Telling her she was an idiot, an idealistic fool, thinking she would just walk into some random diner in a town she didn’t know and have her life magically fall into place. She didn’t have a job here, and she wouldn’t have a job _anywhere_ , and she’d ruined everything, not just for herself but for her daughter -

“Yeah. Right. Of course - yeah. Don’t worry about it, really -” Her voice was choked, but she didn’t care, because if she just kept babbling maybe she could drown it all out. She should have never come here. She shouldn’t have stopped at all, because as soon as she slowed down her mind started filling with fantasies, and then just as quickly it dashed them all to pieces -

“What’s your name?” She didn’t know why he cared, but she would be forever grateful for the distraction. 

“Arya.” She wished her voice didn’t shake.

“And your daughter?”

Arya kept her eyes trained on the man in front of her, but she could still see, in her periphery, when the server - _Gendry_ , she supposed, shot his head up, his eyes trained right on her and wide as saucers. Well, it was the first time he hadn’t frowned since she’d walked in. (And she supposed, a little bemusedly, that she really ought to get used to this type of reaction. It wasn’t the first, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.) She ignored him, though, as thoroughly as she could. She wasn’t talking to him, anyway.

“Lyanna. I call her Lya, most times.” She’s not sure why she felt the need to share that. Why she felt the need to answer any of his questions at all. But the man across from her gave her a smile, and his eyes crinkled up, and he seemed somehow both happy and sad at the same time, and she cursed the way that made her chest tighten even more. 

“And how old are you?”

Arya hesitated. 

She could lie. She didn’t know this man, and staying in this town for longer than a cup of coffee had been a brief flight of fancy, another brush of insanity that she was getting all too familiar with. She didn’t need to go through this, and see the judgment (or, worse - the pity) in his eyes that would surely follow. 

She wondered why she didn’t _want_ to lie, though. What it was about him that made her feel safe. She swallowed, and couldn’t stop the defiant way she lifted her chin as she answered, determinedly forcing her gaze _away_ from the stupid boy at the till.

“Seventeen.”

She waited for his expression to change. For it to switch from kind and understanding to something (anything) worse.

It didn’t happen. Her throat tightened. She didn’t know why she felt like crying. There was nothing to cry about here. Clearly, the longer she stayed in this damned diner the more delusional she became. She had to get out.

She broke her gaze from him, and rifled through her purse for her wallet. She ignored the shaking of her hands and the voice in her head that said she only had eighty seven dollars left -

“Don’t worry about it, Arya.” The man’s voice brooked no argument, and the tightening in her throat only worsened. The two parts of her brain warred against each other; the side that said to just be grateful and accept this stranger’s kindness against the side that said taking charity from _anyone_ , no matter the situation, was unacceptable -

That second side sounded a lot like her mother, actually. That helped a lot with her decision making.

She met his eyes and gave him a shaky smile. She felt an absurd rush of regret to be leaving, despite having just decided that she absolutely must. But this man had been kind to her, and that seemed entirely too rare, and she didn’t know where she was going -

“If you’re thinking of staying a while...”

Could he read her mind? She tried not to let her eyes widen too much. She still wasn’t sure if she could force her voice to work just now, so she made some awkward gesture between a shrug and a nod.

“Go see Miss Crane. She runs the flower shop, just down the street. She’s been looking for some help. Might be a good fit.”

She couldn’t breathe, for a second, as a memory flashed through her mind. Of making flower crowns with her father, just the two of them, in the fields on the outskirts of their property in Winterfell. She’d been happy, then. Everything had been simple. It was before she started growing up, and the expectations for her started changing, and everything went to complete _shit_ -

She pushed the memory aside.

It didn’t matter now. Things were different, and she couldn’t very well go back in time to when she was six years old. She wouldn’t be that carefree little girl ever again, and she had definitely best accept that sooner rather than later.

This could be a chance at something. Something forward. (She’d never had a job before, and she didn’t know anything about flowers other than that she liked them, and she didn’t know anything about where she _was_ other than this man was kind and the boy behind the counter was stupid -) 

She wouldn’t let any of the unknowns get in her way. She couldn’t.

She nodded at him, and smiled again. It came a lot easier, this time. She had to make something work, and she wouldn’t take no for an answer, because it wasn’t just about her. She had to look out for Lya, had to make sure she never wanted for anything, that her own recklessness and insatiable _need_ for independence didn’t mean that her baby suffered for a moment. (Because she couldn’t go back. She wouldn’t let Lya grow up the way she did, with no freedom to be who she wanted, to be who she really _was,_ where being herself could mean being a disappointment - no. No matter what happened from here on out… _that_ was worse. She was certain of it.)

“Tell her Davos sent you.” He gave her a wink, and her smile grew, before she pushed her way out of the diner and onto the street. Her chest swelled with hope and with the solid determination that she’d always had, but that had somehow only strengthened when her daughter came into the world. She wouldn’t fail her. 

If she’d turned back, at that moment, she would have seen the way the young man’s eyes never left her form, and how his look of astonishment only grew as she exited the dinner with little Lya in tow. (She missed that, though, just as she missed the flush that crept up the back of Gendry’s neck when Davos smacked him upside the head, muttering that he’d best pick his jaw up off the floor.)


	2. Chapter 2

Arya was back at the diner a mere three minutes later. Davos and Gendry gave her eerily similar wide-eyed looks, and she sat back down at what she had now deemed was her table.

“They don’t open ‘til nine. So.”

She’d marched down the street to the flower shop, fired up and ready to take absolutely nothing but ‘you’re hired’ for an answer. She’d yanked aggressively on the locked front door of the dark shop (numerous times) until reality had finally set in. Of course they weren’t open yet. _Obviously_. 

Before she could spin her wheels too much, she’d marched just as determinedly right back the way she’d come, and now found herself having come full circle in a record amount of time. She chewed on her lip (and she was tapping her fingers again, she just couldn’t seem to fucking stop that) and tried to determine how best to kill nearly three hours without driving herself even more insane. 

A plate was deposited in front of her, loaded with a stack of pancakes and a pile of fresh fruit. Despite her nausea at the fact that her life was completely up in the air and she didn’t have the slightest clue what was going to happen or what she’d do if this job didn’t work out - she realized she was actually starving, and it happened to smell absolutely heavenly.

Gendry stood before her, his arms crossed and a frown on his face. She wondered if he had any notion of how unfriendly he came off when he did those two things at the same time. Before she could thank him for this unsolicited pancake delivery, he gestured towards Lya, his forehead scrunching up even further.

“What does it… I mean… does she - eat?”

Maybe his frowning came from a place of deep concentration, like the type it took for a teenage boy to deduce what the best diner meal for a newborn baby was. Clearly if he was referring to her daughter as ‘it’, intentionally or not, he wasn’t particularly used to children.

“Not anything that you can provide.” His eyes met hers, and…

Yes, she was growing more certain that this was merely a ‘confused’ frown, rather than an unhappy one. She raised an eyebrow at him, hoping he would put the pieces together without her having to dive into a biology class. Would he ask her where babies came from, next? 

His eyes widened, before flickering towards the vicinity of her chest for the briefest moment. He coughed uncomfortably and ran a hand across the back of his neck, and she fought the urge to laugh.

“Right,” he mumbled, striding away from them pointedly. Her lips twitched, and she forced herself to keep her features as blank as possible. Gods, he would be fun to tease, though, she could tell already, and surely it would be a delightful way to pass the time as she waited for the rest of her life to be decided. 

She should do something more productive with this time though, probably, like come up with a list of reasons why and how she would make an exemplary flower… seller? Arranger? Whatever. Despite the fact that she was a high school drop-out with a newborn infant.

There had to be a _couple_ reasons. It was good, actually, that she had hours and hours to think of them, because they weren’t exactly coming to her all that quickly. 

***

As the minutes turned into hours, the diner slowly filled around her. She tried not to notice the double takes and eventual stares she was receiving from the other patrons. She let out a sigh when she caught the fifth lingering glance directed her way that was just that _little_ bit too inquisitive. She supposed she really was in a small town, now, and this was the sort of thing that was bound to happen. Not only was she an unfamiliar face, but she had a very obvious piece of interest right beside her. Arya’s gaze flickered to Lya, wide-eyed as she took in her new surroundings, and she frowned at the various townspeople shooting covert looks her way.

She hoped nobody else thought that her baby was _stolen_.

She didn’t have much more time to ruminate on that, though, because it was finally time for take two (or was it technically three?) of her job hunt. She ignored the twisting in her stomach and the racing of her heart as she attempted to pay Davos, again (he refused, again). She prayed, just one more time, that she was able to convince someone (specifically, Miss Crane) to employ her, because her life would never be the same after those pancakes, and she would really have to be able to start paying if she wanted to continue coming here.

(There were also a thousand other, much more pressing reasons why she desperately needed a job, but - somehow focusing on something smaller, like the pancakes, made it all seem just a little bit more manageable.)

How had she managed to sit there for hours and still not come up with a satisfactory list of reasons why anyone in any town should give her any job, ever?

Her stomach twisted again, and her palms felt uncomfortably sweaty.

***

When Arya finally, _finally_ crossed the threshold of Elena’s Garden, she was greeted by a woman in a pale yellow dress, her long dark hair pulled back from her face. She was busy doing Gods-know-what behind the counter, but gave Arya a warm smile and hello just the same. 

Arya attempted to smile back - she’s fairly certain she did not succeed, and it came out more like a pained grimace. She took a breath, and figured she might as well bite the bullet here. She’d waited long enough, and she should just get this over with. Stalling wouldn’t help anyone.

“Are you Miss Crane?” Her voice rang out, stronger than it had all morning. That was good. A good sign. She could do this. The woman nodded, and Arya nodded as well, to herself, mostly, as if that would somehow give her the courage to continue on.

“I’m Arya.” Miss Crane stopped whatever she was doing behind the counter. She looked at Arya expectantly, and she hurried to get the rest out. (Because, really, Miss Crane didn’t know her. She couldn’t just say her name and anticipate she would know her precise reason for this visit. She knew that, of course. That didn’t stop her mouth going dry and her tongue suddenly feeling like it might be stuck to the roof of her mouth.)

“I’m, um. I’m looking for a job. I thought you might need -” She watched a crease form between the woman’s brows, and she wished it took more than that for her to panic, but it didn’t. She’d barely gotten started, here, and she was already about to get turned down, _again_ -

“Davos sent me,” she blurted. She prayed that would actually make some semblance of a difference. Davos had seemed to have all the confidence in the world that it would, but -

“Who’s this?” Arya was as grateful as ever for the interruption to her wild, rambling thoughts.

“Lya. My daughter.” Miss Crane’s eyes widened, and Arya rushed to continue, before the woman had a chance to express any notion of turning her away. “But I can - I can work. I can manage, with her, really. She won’t be a burden, I swear -”

She was babbling, she could tell, and her desperation would be unmistakable to anybody. What had happened to her strong, confident voice from thirty seconds ago? Why couldn’t she at least fake it that she had things a little bit together?

“Alright, child, it’s alright. I hear you.” 

Arya faltered at her soft and soothing tone, and the words that came along with it. It was incredibly disconcerting to be referred to as ‘child’ when she had felt so far from one for so long. 

“Where are you staying?” Miss Crane carried on, and Arya chewed her lip. That was a few steps ahead of where she was currently at, if she were being honest. One thing at a time, here. Didn’t she need a job before she found a place to stay? Because if she didn’t have a job she wouldn’t _be_ staying? Right?

“I haven’t… got that far yet.” She held her breath as the paralyzing fear crept back in. It was crushing her chest, slowly, but her heart was thundering, because she was actually _homeless_ , her _and_ her daughter, how had this not occurred to her until right now? How would they _ever_ survive?

“Well, not to worry. You can stay with me for now, until you get settled. I’ve got plenty of space.” Miss Crane gave her a kind smile, and Arya merely gaped at her. 

What?

“Oh, no - I can’t -” She wasn’t sure why the first thing that came out of her mouth was a refusal. What else was she planning on doing? Have her and Lya spend the night in her car? She wasn’t exactly in a position to be turning things down.

Miss Crane seemed to agree, as she cut her off with a wave of her hand and a light ‘nonsense’. Before Arya could fully comprehend what was happening she was being shown to an apartment above the store, and being told to make herself at home, and that she looked exhausted and she should get some rest. She could come on down whenever she felt up to it, and bring her sweet daughter, and she could get started with everything she needed to know. All Arya could do was gape at Miss Crane.

Everything had happened so unbelievably quickly. After waiting for hours at Davos’ Diner, spinning herself in circles, all of a sudden here she was, apparently with not only a job but also a place to stay, and she had hardly even _said_ anything, and it was remarkably difficult to understand or accept that any of this was reality. 

Arya tried her best to thank her, she really did, but most of the words seemed to be strangling her, and she’s not sure any of them ever made it out of her mouth. Miss Crane merely shot her another compassionate look before closing the door gently behind her and heading back downstairs.

Then, and only then, did the tears finally come.

She’s amazed she held them back as long as she did, as they’d been insistently pricking behind her eyes since the earliest hours of the morning. She clutched Lya to her chest, and quietened her gasping breaths as best she could. She couldn’t even say _why_ she was crying, exactly. 

Gratitude, she supposed, that she’d stumbled into this town and somehow come across people who knew exactly what she needed and how to help her. Fear, because she was achingly aware that this was just the first of an unfathomable number of hurdles that her and Lya would need to overcome. Exhaustion, from driving all night and having her brain run around in endless circles for hours and hours and hours.

And, as much as she wanted to deny it, a terrible, crushing _sadness_ that she’d really left her home behind. That she hadn’t been able to stand it in the house she’d grown up in, with her own family around her. That she really couldn’t stay. 

Because, ultimately, she knew her parents loved Lya. Of course they did. It was, in her opinion, absolutely impossible not to. But it didn’t change anything. It didn’t change the fact that Arya knew what their love would turn into as her baby grew up.

(As messed up as everything currently was, Arya knew her parents loved _her_ too. That didn’t mean that being around them didn’t twist her up, make her miserable, turn her into the worst possible version of herself. How could she want that for her daughter?)

She cried for all of it, until she was so utterly worn out she wasn’t sure if she could ever cry again. She cried until the sting behind her eyes had been replaced by a dull ache, and the skin on her cheeks somehow felt too tight. She cried until her breathing could finally come naturally, and her weariness almost had a sense of peace to it.

She knew she had to sleep, and she would. There was just one more thing she had to take care of, first. When she’d finally gotten her breathing back under control and forced back any new oncoming waves of emotion, she searched for a phone.

She doubted this call would go much better than the one to her mother, but… 

If nothing else, Lya’s father ought to know where they were.

***

If Arya thought back on her life, and her childhood, and the way she’d grown up… as unbelievable as the current state of affairs seemed to her, it somehow made all the sense in the world, actually, that she had ended up here. Completely uprooted in Lost Lake, having left behind all the comforts that came from growing up in an affluent household the way she had. There had been too many disagreements with her mother to count, over the years, from the way she should be dressing, to the way she should be styling her hair, to the ‘calibre’ of the youth she would choose to grace with her friendship. Everything was a fight. Everything she did was wrong, and the more wrong she was the less she could even pretend she wanted to be right. 

All of her wrongs came to a head, unsurprisingly, after Aegon. After she found out the truth of things, the consequences their actions had brought on, that her life would never be the same.

She’d had to tell her parents, of course. 

She felt so small standing before them, as her voice shook and she apologized again and again, barely holding back the tears that threatened to spill from behind her eyes. She’d known they’d be angry, disappointed, appalled - none of those things were new for her. But it had still been so much worse.

She could picture her mother’s face, stony and hardened as she laid out the plans for the rest of Arya’s life, right there in the family room as if Arya herself had no thoughts or feelings on the matter at all. She would marry Aegon, and raise the baby in Winterfell, and in two years Aegon would go off to college, and soon enough he’d have a job at his family’s firm and he would be able to properly look after her, look after _them_ , and then -

It had all been too much. All she knew was that that wasn’t what she wanted, not any of it. Every part of it was wrong. And she knew her life wasn’t exactly going to go the way she’d always planned or dreamed - not anymore. But she could still control _some_ things, couldn’t she? Shouldn’t she have some semblance of a say in the way the rest of her entire life would turn out?

She’d hissed and spit that she would absolutely _not_ marry Aegon, she didn’t love him, and she was only _sixteen_ -

(Nevermind that knowing that she was pregnant by a man she wasn’t even in love with had her mother in danger of losing consciousness. Clearly this hadn’t occurred to her, because why else would Arya ever have allowed him into her bed?)

She’d expected to meet with resistance from her mother. She always did, and she was prepared for it. 

She wasn’t prepared for the exhausted, nearly detached voice of her father to cut off her shrill and long-winded arguments. His tone was flat as he’d expressed that there were certain things that just _must_ be done in a situation like this. That if she was adult enough to get herself into this position, she was adult enough to accept the consequences and take responsibility. _Full_ responsibility, which meant meeting the expectations that came with her family name and being a Stark of Winterfell. 

She’d choked on all her rebuttals, after that. All of the fire and contempt and rage that she’d been preparing to hurl at her mother had died on her tongue as something inside of her splintered. The last piece of her that held onto the way things used to be, when her father was on her side, always, no matter what she’d done - it had broken. 

She hadn’t realized until that moment what a lifeline it had always been for her. That she’d thought she could handle _anything_ with her mother, no matter how much they disagreed, if ultimately her father would be there, telling her it would be alright and kissing the top of her head or squeezing her shoulder. 

She couldn’t do any of this without him on her side.

(And maybe it was unfair of her, and had been all these years, to expect that of him. To force him to be in the middle of war after war after war, forcing him to choose sides until eventually he was so worn out that he didn’t have anything more to give to her. That didn’t make it hurt any less.)

Silence wasn’t a response either of her parents were used to, but Arya was too focused on trying to keep the broken bits of her together to notice the uneasy look that passed between them. 

***

She didn’t marry Aegon. She’d said she wouldn’t, and she meant it. (And if anyone was surprised, well, she didn’t really have the energy to care. They should have seen it coming, in her opinion. Had she not been more than clear?)

He had asked her, though. Of course he had. And she was no fool; she knew he didn’t want to marry her any more than she wanted to marry him, but he went along with the whole charade anyways, to smooth the ruffled feathers. To ensure nobody in the North could look at him and whisper amongst themselves that he hadn’t done right by her. 

The resentment that had risen in her as he knelt before her was stronger than she’d expected, and it had only grown when she’d seen the relief in his eyes, clear as day, when she’d refused him. (Because of course he’d put it on her to be the one to stop it. He’d known she would, known it would mean _he_ didn’t have to, and she hated him for it, just a little bit.)

***

Arya didn’t want to hate Aegon. She tried so, _so_ hard not to. Hate was exhausting, and she had so many other things to worry about, and he had given her the most precious thing she’d ever known. Nevertheless - she could feel it at the back of her mind, festering, growing a little bit stronger with each of his apathetic actions. She tried not to blame him. He was seventeen. He had other things on his mind, other aspirations, and (unlike her) he seemed to have no problem carrying on as if nothing had changed. (She ignored the bitter voice in her head that said that _she_ was seventeen too, and they were both responsible for what had happened, and you didn’t see _her_ carrying on as if their child didn’t exist -)

It was different for him, though. He didn’t feel the changes like she did. He could still go to school, still graduate, still play sports and party with his friends. She hadn’t been a _part_ of him, for months, before they ever met her, and strangers who saw him in the street wouldn’t just _know_ , with a single glance, the way they did with her. None of that was his _fault_. If they’d traded places, who was she to say she’d be any different?

(She’s pretty sure she would, but she pushed that thought away too, because she _really_ didn’t want to hate him.)

But when she called to tell him where she was, that she’d taken Lya, that she wasn’t coming back -

It was the relief, again, that did it. Why did his relief always leave her feeling so infuriated? She could hear it in his voice as he lamented that his life was in _Winterfell_ , and if she’d made this decision without even consulting him she had to understand that it would mean he couldn’t visit much, and he couldn’t be as involved in Lya’s life as he’d of course _like_ to be (she bit back a snort). 

She wondered how she could have this fury towards him while feeling the same relief herself. Because that was it, the final hurdle, the last thing that could have stopped her from doing this all on her own, doing everything the way _she_ wanted -

It hadn’t been much of a hurdle at all. She was glad, for her own sake. Some small piece of her heart was cracked a little bit, though, for Lya, and how anyone could possibly let her go so easily. It was unfathomable to her. If Aegon had pulled a stunt like she had…

If he’d taken their daughter and told her he was starting a new life, with Lya, somewhere else -

She would have burned the whole North to ashes until she was with her child again. (And probably put Aegon in the ground, honestly, for even trying something like that.)

If he wouldn’t do the same, she wasn’t all the way sure he deserved to be part of her life at all. 

***

Arya crept back downstairs several hours later, with Lya in her arms and the feeling that she was a brand new woman. It was truly remarkable what a few hours of sleep could do for a person. Miss Crane greeted her warmly, and Arya was determined to rectify the lamentable job she’d done at expressing her gratitude earlier in the day.

“Miss Crane -”

“Please, call me Elena.” 

“Elena. I can’t thank you enough. For everything. We’ll find a place as soon as we can, I promise -”

“One thing at a time, dear. Let’s not worry about that just now.” Arya acquiesced, and she marveled, not for the first time, at how effortlessly kindness seemed to come to Miss Crane (no - Elena). She was so warm, from the very first moment, and it all just seemed so easy for her. (And it’s not like she’d had the worst home in the world, she knew that. But it hadn’t been… warm. Or simple, like a life here seemed like it could be.) She couldn’t possibly be making a mistake, raising her daughter around people like this. 

Right?

***

While Elena explained to her the workings of the register, the basics of pricing, and how to respond to the most common questions, Arya found herself breathing more easily than she had in months. She had thought it might take her a little bit longer to warm up to having a job than it did, but by the end of the afternoon she’d already fallen in love with the shop. It was so colourful, and inviting, and beautiful, and she couldn’t fully wrap her mind around how _right_ everything felt. (She still didn’t know a daisy from a dahlia, but she figured she’d have time to sort that kind of thing out.) She’d never had any sense of… control, before. That was the most comforting part of it all. That she was in the driver's seat now, for the first time in her life. What happened to her and Lya, from here on out, was up to her, and…

Gods, it made the whole world around her just a little bit brighter.

***

Hours later, she was clutching Lya to her chest and chewing her lip as options ran through her mind of just how, _exactly_ , she was actually going to do any work with her baby around. She’d assured Elena wholeheartedly that it wouldn’t be a problem, and for now, when she was mostly shadowing, it wasn’t, but surely, eventually, she’d need both hands. Probably sooner rather than later, in reality. Maybe a bassinet would work? While she’d grabbed as many of Lya’s small necessities as she could, during her flight for freedom, she was still sorely lacking in the supplies department. Especially when it came to anything on the large side, like a crib, or a stroller, or -

She cut herself off before she let herself get overwhelmed again. One thing at a time. She refused to be overwhelmed for one more minute today. She had already done quite enough of that, and there would be plenty of time for more tomorrow, she was sure. 

When Gendry pushed through the door, her resolution to remain positive for the rest of the day suddenly seemed a whole lot easier, and she shot him a smile (which he, unsurprisingly, did not return).

“Hey.” He’d stopped just past the threshold, as if wandering into the shop any further was far too dangerous of an endeavour. His clear uneasiness somehow made her feel all the more calm. 

“Hi,” she responded brightly.

“So.” Gendry blinked at her. She waited, patient for once, while his eyes scanned the entirety of the shop, taking his sweet time, before they finally met hers once more and he decided to carry on with whatever he’d started by announcing the ever-so-eloquent ‘so’.

“This worked out, then? You’ll be... staying a while?”

Arya’s chest swelled. It was hard to even believe, still, but _yes_ , it had worked out, and she would be staying. Hearing him say it made it all the more real, and all the more satisfying. Gods, how could things have changed so much from the previous day? 

“That’s the plan.”

An unreadable expression passed over his face, before he gave her a curt nod. The silence stretched between them, and Arya wondered how she could be so amused by such a stilted exchange. It wasn’t like she couldn’t carry a conversation herself (in fact, she frequently found herself unable to shut up) but there was something so satisfying in waiting him out, to see if he would crack -

“Davos wanted to know,” Gendry continued, _finally_ , nodding at her again, more determinedly this time. 

“I’m sure he did.” It’s not that she didn’t believe him. She’s sure Davos _was_ wondering if his lead had worked out. She’s also sure that he could have come himself, if he was really that curious, _and_ that the news of a young stranger come to town to work for Miss Crane had likely already spread like wildfire through a community such as this.

“Yeah. So. I’d best go let him know.” He made no move to leave, and continued to stand in front of her, his hands in his pockets and his face, for once, without a frown. It suited him, she decided, the lack of a scowl. She hoped to see it more often.

“Alright.” She quirked an eyebrow, and wondered if the lightness she felt in her chest was written all over her face. 

“So, I’ll… see you around.” He phrased it like it might have almost been a question, but before she could get another word out he’d turned on his heel and stomped out. Arya watched him leave, warmth spreading through her at the thought that she already might have a friend (though she’s sure, somehow, that Gendry would deny being designated as such). When Arya spun back around, her eyes met Elena’s, who was surveying her with raised brows and lips pursed in amusement.

“What?” Arya huffed. Something about the way Elena’s eyes were twinkling had Arya immediately on the defensive, for reasons she couldn’t entirely explain. 

“I didn’t say a word.” Elena merely shook her head to herself, and went back to trimming the stems of the greenery laid out in front of her. Well, she may not have said anything, but she very clearly _thought_ something, and Arya was about to inquire just as to _what_ had merited a look like that -

But Lya was wriggling, and starting to fuss, and all thoughts of Elena and her raised eyebrows flew out of Arya’s mind at once. She rocked Lya gently back and forth, and cooed soothing nonsense into her ear. Things about how they were alright, everything was alright, this was their new home -

And Lya may not be able to understand a word that came out of her mouth, but it relieved Arya to tell her, all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed!  
> This story is Gilmore Girls ~inspired~ so we are going to see some differences, such as Arya's feelings towards Aegon being not all that loving! I know for a lot of GG Lorelai has Chris at the back of her mind as a 'maybe one day we'll figure it out' option but that is not the case here for Arya/Aegon ;)  
> The plan is to pick up the pace a bit after these first two chapters so we will see some time jumps in the very near future! :)  
> Special thanks to Ellie for going over this and helping me!
> 
> If you are reading and liking the story please let me know as I am a bottomless pit of need for praise xoxoxo
> 
> Also come find me on Tumblr @kelleesioverhere and let's be friends

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to Ellie (wyneb_ceffyl_arya) for helping me with this! Sharing drafts has been a new and terrifying experience for me but I am so happy to have someone as excited as me about this to bounce ideas off of! I am so glad to have your help! :)))
> 
> Also thank you to everyone for reading, I would like to include my constant caveat/reminder of the fragility of my mental state, encouragement is always welcome
> 
> Hope you enjoy and have a great day xoxox


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